Eternal Things
by BlueDaze
Summary: Pain is a fact of life. So is grief as Sydney learns one awful night. N/C sex and death. It's my first fanfic so enjoy.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Eternal Things

Author: Blue Daze

Genre: Drama, Angst

Spoilers: Small reference to ATY

Rating: R very very R. 

Distribution: Just ask first

Reviews: Yeah sure go ahead. 

Disclaimer: Oh come on. If I owned Alias I would not be writing a friggin fanfic. I would be on top of Agent Vaughn like a … I'm gonna stop talking now.

A note: This story has some very adult themes. Such as non-consensual sex (that's right people no fairy tales here. Maybe later but not now.) Also character death. Some parts were inspired by Buffy and a scene in Spiderman. Oh, don't get a heart attack it's not like I'm getting paid for this.

_Pain. It's part of life. The pain of love, of sorrow, of hatred. Pains in its sharpest moments shape us into the person we must ultimately become, granting a healing ecstasy in our grief. We can't control it; those moments of agony when we feel as though we might implode. We feel it and we are never truly the same. Pain. It wraps itself around you, engulfing you, until it is all you know…_

_It's too cold, Sydney thought, as she stared fixedly at the grave. It was grey and hard, lacking in love and grace despite the affectionate inscription:_

**Francine Calfo**

**Loving Daughter and Friend**

**May the Angels Smile Upon Her for All Eternity**

She wasn't sure how long she had been standing there…possibly since sunrise. The seconds seemed to bleed into days without her being truly aware of it. _Ever since that night…_

_No, you said you wouldn't think about it anymore._

Sydney began to pick the petals off one of the roses in the bouquet she brought.  It consisted of yellow roses (for friendship) and white roses (for grace, purity, Heaven, whatever…) She sprinkled the petals, letting them fall like snow on the grave.

It was a chilly morning; even the sunlight felt cold on her back. Or maybe it was just her. She was the one who was frozen and numb to the bone. Perhaps Francie was not the only one who had died that night. Unlike Francie, however, Sydney would have to live with her death along with so many other things in her sad, dark life.

She felt a tear slide down her and shuddered at it's warmth on her skin. Ok, so maybe she wasn't as dead she perceived herself to be. She had not turned into one of those marble angels that stood guard at the cemetery gates. She could still feel the sorrow…bewilderment…

            …pain.

            Oh God, why couldn't she be dead to the pain? It should be warning with regard to her: _Where Sydney Bristow walks painful things follow. Please tread carefully._

            _I guess Francie forgot to read the warning label._

            "I don't know who to grieve more for," she whispered. She dropped the yellow and white bouquet on the freshly dug soil.

            _Would the truth have saved you, Fran? Why did you have to die? What on Earth did you have to die for?_

_            She let a few more tears slide down her cheek, rain on glass. She choked back a sob, all the while wondering who she was crying for. __One tear for you, two for me…_

_            She had gotten there too late, seconds too late. As always. __I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry. I just know it'll never be enough._

_It can be as trivial as pinprick or as shattering as the knife itself. It's a fact of life. It's not pretty but hey- sometimes it's all we have._

A breeze brushed past her and she hugged herself tightly, shutting her eyes against the memory. No, too late. There it was as stark as black on white.

Flashback

"Francie?" Sydney called, opening the door to her apartment. "Hey Fran, I'm home."

She stopped suddenly. A small smile curled her lips. The lights were turned down low and the living room was set up in a devastatingly romantic fashion. Candles were lit, rose petals littered the place, champagne glasses were half-drunk, and romantic music was playing softly in the background.

"Nice," Sydney murmured. She walked over to the coffee table and saw a small note on it. Unable to resist, she picked up the note and read it curiously, feeling a tingle of vicarious pleasure at its words.

"_My Dearest Francie,_

_Let it not your wonder move, _

_Less your laughter that I love…_

Sydney recognized it as a poem by some author whose name she could not recall. At the bottom of the note was an inscription:

_These words describe my feelings for you better than any love song. _

_Your David_

David. Francie's new man that Sydney had only heard of once before.

"_Oh Syd, I met the cutest guy today. He's smart, charming, and he travels the world doing charity work in __Third World__ Nations. He's almost too good to be true!"_

_"He probably is!" __Sydney__ told her, laughingly. _

Sydney finished reading the rest of the poem. "_'til she be the reason why / all the world for love may die."_

_It's nice to know that there are still some decent guys out there for the rest of us, Sydney thought, wryly. Her thoughts turned abruptly to a pair of smiling green eyes and she felt a shudder of pleasure. __And one incredible guy out there for me._

Sydney put down the poem and that was when she noticed a third glass of champagne on the table. Another small note was attached to it.

_"Hey Syd!! You've been working too hard! Have some bubbly and I'll see you in the morning. Love Francie._

Sydney smiled and took a game sip of champagne. She considered taking a luxurious bubble bath but decided against it. It would be too awkward if Francie's David walked in to take a whiz and saw her naked except for a few bubbles. Instead, she would light a few candles of her own and curl up with a good first edition.

She downed the rest of her champagne and went to her room, peeling off her jacket and throwing it on a chair.

As soon as she was dressed down in her night dress she made her way back to the living room to retrieve her copy of Camille on the table. She felt like something tragic that night.

She passed her roommate's bedroom and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Francie was probably in there, pleasantly slumbering in her David's arms. _Maybe now would be a good chance to see what this guy looks like. Francie had been smugly mysterious about him and when questioned about his features would only make an exaggerated drooling sound._

Sydney quietly pushed open the door, careful to not let it creak. A shaft of light revealed Francie's form, sound asleep and alone in bed.

_Huh. No David. Well that probably means that she won't mind if I wake her for a moment to ask how her date went._

She crept into the room and stood over her sleeping friend. "Francie?" she whispered. " Francie are you awake?" Her friend did not stir.

Sydney figured it was the champagne. She turned to leave when something about when something about the scene struck her as chillingly odd. Francie was not a heavy sleeper, even when she was drunk. Even if she was hung-over into absolute hell, Francie still managed to get up in the morning when she heard the paper being thrown into the driveway. Why didn't she awake now? Why did it appear as though she were not breathing? She couldn't possibly be…

"Francie?" Sydney whispered the chill beginning to take hold of her heart. She leaned forward to look at Francie's face more closely, trying to get her eyes to adjust in the dark. Her heartbeat seemed to slow and quicken as the room began to blur into dots.

Francie's eyes were wide open. They were dead and searing themselves into Sydney's nightmares to come.

Sydney straightened, choked with horror, and clapped a hand over her scream.

Suddenly the lights flickered on. Sydney whirled around, terrified and disoriented. 

Sark stood over the threshold, lighting up a cigarette. He smiled arrogantly at her while he took a drag off his cig. The stench of nicotine made her dizzy and she leaned unsteadily on the nightstand.

"I had a wonderful night with your friend," he purred. _Friend. Not lover. An innocent that's all she was. And the look on your lovely face-"He took a step toward her. "-was worth all the preparation I made for tonight. After all it's a special occasion."_

Sydney stared at him, feeling the bile rise in her throat. She looked back at Francie's body, finally registering that she was nude beneath the covers. _He slept with her. He slept with her before he killed her. She let out a choked sob of anguish. _

"Do you like it sweetness?" he went on. "I wanted it to be perfect for you." He sneered, his face a pale mask of everything dark and senseless. "For us."

"Us?" Sydney's head was spinning like a top.

"Why yes. You and I and our first beautiful night together."

And then she knew. His intentions for her were carved over his features, cold and quietly insane. _This was the face that was too handsome for words? _

He wanted her. Not in the adoring, honorable way Vaughn desired her. Sark wanted her the way a wolf wanted meat. He wanted to tear her to pieces until there was nothing left but blood and bone. Shame and emptiness. He meant to pin her down and damage her to the world, grinding her into ruin. He wanted to destroy every last trace of innocence and dignity and humanity in her. And then discard her like trash when he was done because that was all he considered her to be.

"You goddamn psycho." Sydney whispered, backing away. She tried to resist trembling. That would probably just turn him on more. "You're fucking insane."

"Maybe. Doesn't mean you're not afraid." He clapped his hands together. "Now let's get started." He lunged at her and she yelped and dodged his advances.

They fought. Sydney did not have much thought in her mind except to tear Sark and his attentions to shreds. Francie's corpse hung treacherously over her mind as she roundhouse kicked Sark in the face, shrieking primitively as she did so. He tumbled to the floor.

As she aimed a kick at the blur she knew to be Sark's body she felt the room wobble dangerously beneath her. She staggered backwards as the room shifted in and out of focus. Her breath came in painful stabs as she struggled for more air.

_The champagne…there was something in the champagne…_

_Okey doke . This is my first fanfic. If you don't like it so far then you are totally free to leave. I'll be sad but I'll live. _


	2. innocent

Eternal Things II 

Sark had the upper hand   the moment the champagne touched Sydney's lips and he knew it. Sydney didn't stand a chance. In another moment he was on his feet and the room blurred as he grabbed her and pinned her to the bed. She cried out at the harshness of his grip as they

            grasped her arms. Francie-or the body that had been her- was a mere inches away. She would be the only witness to the blasphemous act that was to take place. Sydney let out another scream, more from sheer, internal agony than any pain Sark could inflict. For now, anyways. But what happened between this moment and whatever horrendous thing that would occur was beyond Sydney Bristow's control.

            Sark's breath was warm on her cheek as he breathed "As you probably figured out, there was a mickey in the champagne. How else do you think your roommate became so pliant to my wishes?"

            "You bastard!" she screamed into his face, her tongue beginning to grow thick. "You son of a-"

            He silenced her curses with a hard and contemptuous kiss on the mouth. Those same lips laced with lies had kissed her trusting, doomed roommate that same night. Sydney felt her system rebel at the thought and her body rose as she repressed a gag. She tried to keep her lips sealed against his dark, lustful tongue but it forced its way through nonetheless and began roaming her mouth like an intruder.

            As the drug began to kick in she felt her body lose feeling as though it was wrapped in lead. She realized to her despair that she would not black out into unconsciousness during the ordeal as she had hoped. Her body would be rendered numb and paralyzed but she would be ever aware of what he was doing to her. He had, after all, planned it out this way. 

Tears welled in her eyes. This was wrong, profane even. She wasn't supposed to be The Victim. Francie shouldn't have died. She screamed one last time only to have it devoured by Sark's mouth on hers.

 _Ohgodcan'tbreathepleasepleasepleasestopstopstopdon'twantthiscan'tbreathhelp_

He pulled away for a moment and gazed at her like a lover, admiring her beauty. For one delusional minute, Sydney could see the man Francie fell in love with. "I love it when you play hard to get," he demurred, taking off his belt and unzipping his fly.

It was useless to struggle. Sydney couldn't even lift her hand. But she didn't have to look at him as he forced way into her. She kept her glassy eyes focused on the other wall (she certainly wasn't going to look at Francie) as he jammed himself into her. Even as the pain and shame assailed she would not give him the grace of hearing her cry out like a wounded deer. But that was partly because she no longer had it in her to scream. She felt herself harden to him even as he believed that he was breaking her. She refused to break. She would not break and she would not give in to Sark and his animal urges.

Humanity. She had to hang on to her humanity.

But it was difficult as he was hurting her a lot.

The only sounds Sydney could hear was Sark on top of her, heaving like a beast during mating season. As she lay beneath him, she allowed her mind to blank out in a white static. Odd visions began to invade the empty canvas of her mind…

_A sunlit park…Vaughn and her finally out in the light together and in public. In the light where the evil and __Sark__ couldn't touch her. Just safe and warm and happy. She wanted to stay in this beautiful place forever…_

_The agony cuts so deep at times we believe we will never stop bleeding. Didn't someone once say that wounds heal but scars, well those suckers are forever. But sometimes we heal and we begin to understand the pain. And sometimes… it swallows us whole._

They stayed in their sick farce of an embrace a few moments longer. After a few more thrusts she heard him give a nauseating groan as she felt him give, flooding and infecting her being._ Oh my God, I helped him get off. I gave him pleasure…_

Finally he straightened, wiping away her kiss as though it were something foul. Her own mouth felt bruised and cut from the abomination that left him empowered and her empty and violated. Every fiber of her being felt detached from what had happened and her mind registered it even as her heart repressed it.

As she lay on the bed, weak and hurt, Sark threw his jacket on. "Well darling I hope you enjoyed that. It was one of my best performances to date." The dark, lecherous look he gave her made her feel cheaper than she had ever felt in her entire life.

"You sick fuck. You raped me."

He shrugged it off. "I'm sorry we can't snuggle a bit longer but I have work to do. You understand."

Sydney kept her eyes on him, her hatred and her helplessness burning bright. "I'm going to kill you," she said flatly. 

He laughed good-heartedly.

Then struck her unconscious.

_Pain is more than we can bear. Whether it is the inflicted or the tormentor, pain is a primitive thing. It unites within us the human and the animal._

She jerked awake to find herself facing the snout of a gun. Police had swarmed the place when neighbors reported sounds of screaming and fisticuffs.

Francie- or the body she had become- had already been bagged and taken away.

The rest of the siege was a blur. The police were prodding, trying to stir some info from her. But all Sydney knew was the stream of thought running endlessly through her head:__

_Francie's dead __Sark__ seduced her he killed her Francie's dead __Sark__ raped me am I dead what I am going where now?_

Sydney hardly felt the cold snap of handcuffs on her wrists as a blank-faced officer read her her rights. She was beyond caring that she was being arrested and that outside the sirens were wailing her condemnation to the world.

Outside, the police were putting an inappropriately bright yellow tape around the house. Outside, Jack, Vaughn, and Will were standing there attempting to grasp the situation. When they spotted Sydney in handcuffs their eyes widened in horror. Oh, but they barely knew the surface of it.

Sydney's father came running up to her, prompting the police officers who were withholding her to stop.

"Sydney!" he exclaimed. "What happened?" His face was touchingly etched in rare concern. Perfectly natural. After all, yet another person in her universe was gone forever. He was probably wondering what effect it was having on her sanity. "What happened?" he repeated.

_What happened? What happened? You wanna know what happened, Daddy? Really? Well, let's see…my best friend was killed by Mommy's good friend. And then I was raped a few inches away from her corpse. Now I'm getting arrested for her murder. That's right, Daddy, your baby girl is damaged goods. But enough about me how was your night?_

Instead of saying those words, Sydney kept her eyes glued to the patch of nothing on the ground.

She heard Will say something with the word "hell" in it. She ignored it. Then she lifted up her eyes and felt them lock onto Vaughn's. Something about those brilliant green orbs seemed to stir something from within her stupor. They were filled with all the grief and anguish that Sydney was incapable of expressing at the moment. She could tell he wanted to hold her, to soothe her like he did so many times before, but the hard wall of cops kept him at bay.

In a moment, she knew that when the coroner had brought out Francie's bagged body, he believed it had been Sydney inside of it.

_He's empathizing with me. How sweet._

But his strength, so strong and silent, only seemed to bring back the memory of what had passed in a jolting flash of realism.

Francie-dead. Sydney-destroyed.

_Oh take it away, she thought as the self-disgust rolled in waves up and down her body. __Please just make it go away._

She broke her stare with Vaughn and let her eyes glaze over.

"Your daughter is going to be questioned for the murder of her roommate."

"That's ridiculous," Jack fumed. "My daughter would never…Sydney, tell them."

_No Dad. Let this happen. It's only right. I did get her killed. And there's a penance to be paid._

When Sydney did not answer, when the only response she gave him was a blank, uncomprehending stare, he knew she would not do a thing to defend her innocence.

The three of them stared after her in stunned bewilderment as she was pushed in the back of a police car and hauled away.

End chapter 2


	3. grief

Eternal Things III: Grief

            _Pain hardens us. And then there's the fear... that one day, we'll wake up only to find that we are simply ghosts. Shadows drifting in and around this world, never again to be truly a part of it. Dead to sorrow and hate, love and passion. It's a slow death tearing away at us until we realize that we feel nothing at all._

_            Time no longer had any meaning in Sydney's perspective. She was aware enough to know that she was in a police interrogation and that the two homicide detectives were getting extremely frustrated with her inability to defend or incriminate herself. But she simply sat there and absorbed the barrage of questions and accusations which were lobbed at her from all sides._

            Nothing could stir her from a state that eerily resembled a waking coma. Her eyes were open yet unseeing. The female detective casually mentioned to her partner that it seemed as though the suspect's soul had been torn from her body. The girl was as empty as a shell.

            "Well, that might explain why she had all of a sudden gone Norman Bates on her roommate."

            Days (or perhaps minutes) passed and Sydney sank deeper and deeper into the catatonic. The darkness of her own personal abyss sucked her in and, in a bizarre way, comforted her. 

            She was in a place far, far away from agendas and intrigue. A world so much better than her own. In this place, everything was quiet and still as though she were in a cemetery or the grave itself. In this place, Francie stood in a shadowed corner with a sad smile and Sark … well Sark held no place in the silence.

            Sydney in her trance, failed to recognize the smoldering glares she was earning from the detectives. They had no weight in whatever world Sydney had entrapped herself in. They were real; meaning what had happened that night had to be real as well. 

            And Sydney was not yet ready to accept that as of yet.

            So she sat there as inanimate as a rock._ This is a good place. I like this place. Let's just stay here a wee bit longer._

_            "Okay, you know what? Questioning this chick is like questioning a coma patient. We're not gonna get anything out of her."_

            "Yeah, you're probably right… Jesus, look at her. Did she die and someone forget to tell us?"

            "Maybe she hasn't had a chance to grasp what she's done yet. I mean, the two of them have never had a history of discord before so…"

            "So what the hell drove her off the edge this one time (sigh) Jesus, how the hell should I know how the mind a psycho works just by looking at her. Maybe the stress finally bitch-slapped her one too many times or maybe it was just some chaotic detail."

            "Hmm…she doesn't look like a killer. She looks more like a kindergarten teacher. Or maybe a nun."

            "Whatever. Just cuz she's pretty doesn't make her exempt from the law. Keep her here a few more hours. She'll crack eventually."

            Eventually never came.

            But Daddy did. 

            He swept into the interrogating room, filling it with a professional grandeur that came from knowing that he was well above the rank of the detectives. He knew things that they were incapable of understanding and they were intimidated by the mere strength of his presence.

            "Release my daughter," he commanded. 

            "Excuse me?"

"She's innocent." Jack held up a manila envelope. "I have proof."

It turned out to be a videotape. It was labeled. WAS IT GOOD FOR YOU TOO?

"The man who murdered my daughter's friend made a tape that night."

_Oh God._

Jack handed them the tape and, looking wearily at father and daughter, left to view the tape.

Jack stared at his child for a few minutes and before he went and knelt before her.

"Sydney? Sydney." Jack gently shook her (hey that's kinda annoying) and looked into her vacant eyes. "Sydney, it's going to be all right. I promise. Vaughn has been working to prove your innocence. Sydney?"

She figured she owed to him to at least speak to him, to emerge from her safe haven. "What is it Daddy?"

"At the crime scene- why didn't you try to defend yourself?"

Well, she certainly didn't have to think about the answer to that. "Because only innocent people should defend themselves. And I've gotten so many people hurt. Innocent people don't do that."

"Sydney, that's not true. You're just lost. But it'll be ok. I promise."

She didn't believe him. Even when he truly believed what he was saying, she was still too lost to care. 

And being lost was so much better than being aware.

Sydney made a sorry attempt at a painful smile. "How-how did you get the tape?"

Jack sighed. "It was sent to Mr. Vaughn's office at CIA headquarters. No sender address. But we suspect that it was Sark himself."

"Did you watch it?" His face, wrought with emotion, told her yes.

"What was on it?"

Jack averted his eyes suddenly. There's no need to- what's important is to get you out of here." She nodded, perfectly docile. "Sydney-"She raised her eyes to him. He looked so urgent. "- I am so sorry about Francie."

She nodded somberly. "I know you are. I'm sorry too. And-that's good. We're all sorry."

There was a flicker of alarm at the small madness in her tone. It didn't appear to be Sydney saying the words.

In a few moments the two detectives reentered the room. One of them, the woman, looked as though she were about to cry.

"Well," said her partner, shakily. "In light of this evidence, I could say that your daughter is as good as clear."

Jack nodded. "Come along, Sydney."

As they both went to leave the interrogation room, Sydney could feel the safety of the dark nothing that had sheltered her slip away. She was going back to the real world where nothing changed.

Two simple things remained true.

Francie was still dead.

And so was Sydney in a way.

As they walked out the door, Sydney turned to the two detectives.

"This was fun. We should do it again sometime," she said vaguely, unconsciously mimicking Sark.

When they got back to Jack's car, Sydney sat in the passenger seat, staring off into space. It was a habit that was beginning to unnerve Jack.

"Sydney," he began. She turned to him, her eyes curious yet dead. "Did Sark do anything else to you that night?"

She stared at him, silently analyzing the consequences of the answer if she chose to give it to him.

"No Daddy. He didn't do anything else that night."

He studied her expression for a few more seconds but the stillness in her features made it impossible to assume anything. He nodded. "All right."

Sydney nodded back. Then she felt the floodgates open and the full force of the past days hit her. Her sobs came sputtering at first before escalating into a keening wail.

Jack Bristow held his daughter as she cried for all things lost.

_Sometimes it destroys us, brings us to or knees. We cannot deny it we can only hope that something better awaits us. The lucky may lock themselves away for the time being, confined and alone. But the pain is there, constant and eternal and waiting._

End part III 


	4. penitence

Eternal Things pt.IV: Penitence

            Sloane had given her a few days off with his deepest condolences and Sydney spent it locked away in her apartment refusing to see anybody.

            The pain of seeing so much life around her was something she did not need.

            One night, she caught the scent of roses in the air and could've sworn she saw Francie in the corner.

            She learned that she couldn't trust her eyes.

            In her haze of misery, she dimly remembered wishing for Vaughn's presence to warm her.

            _Beyond the agony there is some glint of truth. There had to be a reason why so much had to be suffered, some sense behind the chaos. The promise of which keeps us going, making us endure the pain and the loss and the grief. It's the need to justify it all. That there is a hope worth suffering for. But the thing about truth is that you never know exactly the price you have to pay for it. Most of the time, it is more than we can imagine._

_            So…_

_            How far will you go?_

_            The day of the funeral was the first time that she left the apartment in a long, nameless time. She had not even come to the wake, unable to deal with all those apologetic faces that all had warm, safe homes to go to._

            The only place Sydney had to go home to was a crime scene.

            The whole day went by in a haze and before she knew it, it was over and she was glad of it. She spent the entire time avoiding the sympathy of other mourners but always face to face with her own guilt.

            _All these people are here because of me. Because I messed up again. _

She spotted Francie's parents tearfully conversing with Will. She couldn't bring herself to go up to them and offer her sympathy. She knew that Mrs. Calfo would only offer a shoulder to cry on and weep about what a wonderful friend Sydney was. And Sydney knew she wasn't worth that.

She went home too tired to cry and in too much pain to do anything else but roll up in a fetal ball and let the sorrow eat away at her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered feverishly to a person who no longer existed. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry sorrysorrysorry…"

Near her bedside was a note. She had discovered it in her pillow case the night she came home from the police station. It was sticking out partially from the pillow sham and written in an elegant hand. She didn't have to ask who it was from.

He had after all planned it out this way.

She had read it thousand times an hour, letting the words ingrain themselves into the headstone that was her soul.

"_Pain is the one thing in our life, hell in this world even, that we can be certain of. Everything may fade away into ash and dust but pain is eternal, vigilantly waiting to be felt once again."_

End flashback

Sydney looked down at Francie's grave, letting a few more tears slide down her face. _Of course it's useless to cry now. No tears in this world will ever bring her back. I already learned that with Danny._

The pain had numbed itself to a dull, untouchable ache. The memory of that miserable night and Sark's hands on her had become one more bitter memory locked away in the attic of her mind.

She heard a pair of footsteps behind her and instinctively knew who it was. Even in her grief, she felt a pinprick of warmth at his presence.

"Vaughn, what are you doing here?" she asked softly. "It's not safe."

"I wasn't followed," he replied. "I-I had to see you. To say…how sorry I am."

"Thank you," she whispered, honestly meaning it. She kept staring at the grave. "I could say I'm sorry until forever passes but it won't be enough to bring her back. Never is."

"I know. I wish I knew what to do. I wish there was a way, some magic way to take away your pain. To prevent anything else that would hurt you. But I don't know how to-" 

His eyes were so full of mourning and wanting to help her yet being so helpless to do so. That seemed to accentuate her grief all the more. _I think he was a happier person before he met me._

When Sydney remained silent, Vaughn cried out "Please say something!"

"That's three down," she said quietly. "Danny. Noah. And now Francie. Two of those people didn't deserve to die. But here we are. It just seems as though if I'm not hurting the people I love I'm losing them. And for what? Is taking down SD-6 worth losing more of the people I love? When it's over, I'll wonder if it worth the sacrifices I made. And I will never be free."

"No Syd. That's not true-"

_It is. It seems all I do is…bring pain and grief to the people I care about most in the world. For some stupid quest for vengeance. Who'll be next?_

_Dad? Will? She swallowed. __You? How many more have to die in order   for me to say "That's enough, I'm done." _

"One day," Sydney said with sad thoughtfulness, "I'll wake up and find that I've gotten everything I ever loved killed_. I'll be alone, Vaughn."_

"You'll never be alone, Sydney," he whispered fervently. He reached for her and in another moment she was in his arms, her stone cold body momentarily and gloriously warmed by his. She could've stayed like that forever, but that was a dangerous need.

_You could've gotten him killed in __Taipei__. He nearly died because of you. But he's still here because you refuse to let him go for his own good. And someday, he really will go away because you pushed your luck too hard. Because- you loved him too much to let him go. Vaughn's body, dead, in a bathtub or a bed….oh God please no_

"No," Sydney gasped, pushing Vaughn away. Losing him was not an option. It offered a possibility too terrifying to comprehend. There would be no way to recover from the annihilation it would bring if he were to die. It would destroy her just as her love destroyed everything else around her.

Vaughn looked at her startled. "What is it? Sydney?"

_I have to. I have to do it. I have to…_

Sydney forced her face into a mask.

_If I love them…_

"There is something you can do for me, Vaughn. You and Dad and Will," she said softly.

"What is it?"

_If I love them..._

"Promise me first that you'll do it."

"I will do anything you ask me to. Just tell me."

_I have to let them go._

She stared at him levelly. "Stay. Away. From me."

Vaughn stared back at her, the shock on his face melting to despair.

"No. NO, I can't-"

"You promised," she whispered. "You promised me, Vaughn."

His face became a mask of anguish as he realized that he was hopelessly snared by his own word. 

She held his eyes for a moment longer (just one last moment) then turned and walked away. She had to get out of there soon or else she would break down among the graves, prompting him to comfort her. He would melt her resolve and she would get him killed for it.

In her mind she repeated the words, hanging on to them as though they were a life preserver. _It's for the best. You have to let them go. You have to protect them now. This is the only way to love them you have to hurt them you have to walk away from him…_

She didn't know if she believed her own words.

As soon as she made it outside the gates the pain returned and she fell to her knees and cried. Feeling more alone than ever.

_Pain. It's a part of who we are. We don't want it or desire it. Yet we crave it because we need it. Just to remind ourselves that we are still alive, still human. Pain strips away everything until only one true thing remains:_

_The truth doesn't save anyone._

_The truth hurts._

_That's all there is to it._

So there it is. My first ever Alias fic. What'd you think? Did you think I made Sydney too much of a martyr? Should I have put in more Vaughn or Sark or anything? Please comment!! 


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